Series on Parenting

by Deborah Hansen

Rules of the Game

Your team runs out onto the field, ready to take on the opponent, and the game begins.  Cheering friends and family fill the stands, certain that their team will win the contest. Positions are taken, with the players waiting for the opening whistle to kick off the action. But, it soon becomes apparent that there won’t be a whistle, there aren’t any officials, and the game has no rules. Everyone wanders around the playing field, trying to convince the other players that their way is the “right” way so let’s get down to the action, why don’t we?

Welcome to the world of parenting. Experts abound, with their differing and often conflicting advice, but there is no definitive rulebook that we can use to raise our children. We’re sent off from the hospital with our bundle of joy, our anxiety level on the rise as we wander around the parenting playing field, wondering who has the rulebook and why they aren’t sharing it with us. All those people in the bleachers have a lot to say, too, but they don’t go home with us at the end of the game to lend a hand or see what goes on in our house.

Single parents are at an even greater disadvantage. The game plan for separated families is never clear and guilt is added to the mix, so we’re bound to make mistakes along the way. My daughter and I were victims of my exhaustion on many occasions, my patience worn to a frazzle at the end of our long days. It would have been nice if I had whipped up a home-cooked meal each night while wearing a fresh apron as I slid a baking sheet of chocolate chip cookies into the oven. But that picture-perfect existence only resides on our television screens. It wasn’t evident in my home, and the guilt weighed heavily on my shoulders sometimes. I guess I thought there really was a rulebook and I had been too tired to buy one.

My anxiety always got the best of me when I felt that my daughter wasn’t helping me enough, especially as she got older. We would do fine for awhile as I worked two jobs (one of which involved working more when I got home), took her to all of her softball, soccer, and basketball practices and games, kept the house as orderly and clean as I could, and attended to all the repairs that come with a house or apartment and a vehicle. But then I would snap, because I couldn’t do it all alone and I wasn’t requiring my daughter to lend a helping hand. It was easier to take over all the tasks than to stop and teach her how to do them along with me. Couple that with a child’s natural tendency to avoid work and I would reach a flashpoint every few months, my voice reaching levels surely heard across the street. When we feel ourselves being pushed over the edge, we need to step back, calm down, and give ourselves a break. Our children are too precious to bear the brunt of all that anxiety.

The good news is that my mistakes didn’t prove to be fatal. My daughter survived the micro waved meals as well as my periodic combustion. Children are amazingly resilient, more so than we know and they accept the fact that we’re human. The critical ingredient is the love that knits us together as a family, as fractured as that unit might be. When the pressure gets to be too much, we need to remember that our family is the only “team” that matters. We can call a self-imposed time out, get some help if necessary, and draw up a new game plan. And I guarantee there won’t be any whistles.

-- July 2007

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Deborah Hansen is a veteran of divorced parenting, and a former middle school teacher. She is also a certified county court mediator, and a regular columnist for several parenting publications. She may be reached for comments and suggested topics at [email protected].

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